


Taking the Fall

by DivergentLunarShadowhunter



Series: The Mysterious Series That Will Have a Name Shortly [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, Gen, More like What If, Not Really Character Death, Not What It Looks Like, Plot Twist, Post-Reichenbach, Reichenbach Angst, Reichenbach Feels, What-If, sort of au but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 23:06:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11218107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DivergentLunarShadowhunter/pseuds/DivergentLunarShadowhunter
Summary: This is kind of a mysterious fic that I can't really summarize. I will make this a series and finish the fic in a separate story with the appropriate tags when I finish writing.What I CAN say is that it is a bit of a 'what if', a bit of a 'missing scene' and a bit of 'canon rewrite'. It has to do with The Reichenbach Fall, as shown in the tags multiple times. It has to do with John and Sherlock and that's all I'm going to say.This is not an original idea, I have no doubt it has been done before, but this is my take on it. Enjoy and I'm sorry I couldn't be more specific. Give it a shot for me and tell me what you think!





	Taking the Fall

He never thought it would happen like this.

 

He never thought he would have to stand and watch as his world fell around him while he stood there, helpless.

 

Now he was lost, floating in a sea of tragic denial and agonizing pain...so much pain and hurt.

 

He didn’t even know what to think anymore, couldn’t trust his own body or mind. He lay curled up in bed for hours, in a constant state of shock at the sudden turn of events that had ruined his life.

 

After a while, he started thinking again, but his thoughts always drifted back to that day, that man. His best friend.

 

He’d lost the one person in the world that he cared about the most, and nothing was going to fix that.

 

He ignored calls from the other people who called themselves his friends- Molly, Lestrade, even Mycroft. They were still in shock too, no doubt. But it was nothing compared to the torture he was going through now.

 

He didn’t know why he’d gone to Baker Street- one part of him had never wanted to go back there again. But they had both lived there, it had been not just their shared flat but their  _ home _ . While his brain could not wrap around the fact that he was now living in 221B alone, he couldn’t bear to be anywhere else.

 

Oh, Mrs. Hudson tried. She really did. But even the cheeriest people have to give up eventually. It took only a week and a half before she stopped talking to him, another week before she stopped checking in on him entirely. She still put food in the fridge every week or so, but he only ate when he felt like he was going to die of starvation. 

 

Every time he got to that point, he would feel an increasing urge to just  _ not _ . Not eat, not sleep...not live.

 

But every time he got to  _ that _ point, he would shake himself out of it. And there was only one reason.

 

Only one reason, that kept him climbing out of bed to choke down dry bread that had gone stale days ago. One reason that caused water to continue flowing down his parched throat and air to continue entering and leaving his tired lungs.

 

Because that’s all he did, really. He ate and he drank and he breathed and he lived. But to him it wasn’t really living. Living was being with his flatmate, his partner, his best friend.

 

And the only thing that kept him living was the thought, deep in his wounded and unbalanced brain, was  _ maybe _ .

 

_ Maybe _ it didn’t have to end like this.

 

_ Maybe _ he wasn’t really dead.

 

And every time the intrusive whisper slithered into his brain, he battled it away until it almost never came back. There was no logic, no calculations. Just hope, a stubborn belief.

 

A belief that his best friend, 

 

     John Watson, 

 

          did  _ not _ commit suicide.


End file.
